


Point Taken

by brage



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom John, Fingerfucking, First Time, John feels like an experiment, M/M, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Rimming, Smut, pwp-maybe a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:22:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brage/pseuds/brage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is out to make his point, but John stubbornly refuses to react as Sherlock had expected.  Sherlock must race to save John's virtue.  Lots of porn ensues after that.</p>
<p>“Uh huh.  So deep throating the banana?  Walking around in just your pants with an erection?  Your experiment on ‘the coagulation rate of ejaculate in the human male’?  Where did you get the samples for that Sherlock?  You sodding tossed off whenever it suited you to have another sample, that’s what you did.”</p>
<p>“I was in my bedroom.”</p>
<p>“With the door open!”</p>
<p>“It was for the betterment of mankind.  I shouldn’t be bothered with niceties.”</p>
<p>“Niceties?”  It takes me a moment to shake the memory of the moans and the rapid slapping of skin on skin…ugh, that’s not to say that I didn’t think about leaving the flat when he was doing it, but I … didn’t.  “It was for the betterment of your libido.”  I accused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is not bataed or "Britished-up" by anyone with that sort of skill. I am American but I watch the show and see plenty of British actors and British TV and read tons of Sherlock fanfic so I think, or I hope, that I got their voices right. This is my first time writing in this fandom. Please, if it is too American, let me know. Some terms I'm still trying to work out. Like "jumper"--still no idea what that means. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**John**

The light from the neon strobe hits against me making my flesh burn.  I know I’m not being cooked alive but there are entirely too many people…too many men crowded into this room.  The bass of the music reverberated the sidewalk before I entered but now, contained within the walls, it surrounds me like a blanket, suffocating me.  I know I can still breathe, I know there is air left in this room even though I’m dizzy and purposefully trying to keep control of my breathing.  ‘ _dizziness, shortness of breath, confusion’_   I list the familiar symptoms of hypoxemia and try to put a look of something other than complete and utter panic on my face.  The time I’ve spent attempting to face my fear, the weeks spent finding a place to go without being seen, the countermeasures taken has led to this place.  I can do this.  I will do this.

I took a deep breath through my nose.  Something familiar.  Sort of gym locker room with a touch of fresh sex.  I briefly thought about my days in uni when I played rugby.  If we would have had more orgies in the locker room, I’m certain it would smell like this.  Looking through the crowd I’m certain I would hear the lust consume this room if my ears were not ringing.  I could see it though, flashing colored lights against flesh.  Lots of flesh. 

I cocked an eyebrow and ambled up to the bar with attitude.  I’m determined to complete my mission with some semblance of dignity.  I will not come off like some 35 year-old pathetic virgin.  I am confident, I’m a fucking doctor.  I know my way around the human anatomy for god’s sakes.  How hard could it possibly be to get laid on a Saturday fucking night in fucking London?  I looked around at the 18-25 year old populace of the dance floor—most shirtless with hard-body pecs and tight abs—grinding against each other like they were starting the foreplay early.  I shake my head in misery.  I wore a tight, grey t-shirt, tight jeans and a leather jacket.  I thought I looked pretty good. I mean, I don’t think I’m the best-looking lad in the bunch but I’m not exactly hard to look at either.  But among the crotchless chaps, cut-off shorts, leather vests and the absence of clothing altogether, I felt like Uncle Pervie doing stake-out at the local playground. 

The green-eyed bartender finally noticed me and gave me a smile and a wink.  My mouth went dry and I had no idea what the hell I was going to order.  His smile got wider.  I wish to hell I could hear what he just said.  He put up one finger to tell me to wait one second.  I’m sure he is a mind reader when he came back with a bottle of whiskey and poured me a shot and stood there with the bottle.  I slammed the first one down in one go and he filled it right back up again.  He filled up a tall glass with ice and poured water into it with his little bar gun.  I’m taking the next shot slow.  He stood in front of me with a lopsided grin and winked again.  God was he hot.  Was he coming on to me?  Does he want me to go home with him tonight?  Does it really work this fast?  Is the leather jacket really that hot?  When he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together I feel myself turning six different shades of red and I realized I hadn’t paid the man for the drinks.  I slapped a twenty pound note on the bar and slink off with my tail between my legs.  So much for that dignity thing I was talking about. 

There was no moving through the crowd without touching.  There was no turning around without rubbing against someone.  My arse was found by more than a few groping hands on my way across the floor.  Encouraging.  Somewhat.  I found a dark corner behind the dance floor.  There were no tables left but I found a ledge to lean against and just watch.  Closer inspection of the dance floor had me revisiting my opinion about the foreplay.  It’s not just foreplay I see. It’s full on sex.  You would have to look for it through this crowd but there were definitely men being fucked right out there on the dance floor.  Hell, I bet they don’t even know each other’s names. How hard could it possibly be to get laid here?  I took off my leather jacket.  Shit.  Know idea what the hell I’m going to do with it?  Should have left the damn thing at home.  I was hot as hell though.  I could not put it back on and I’m not leaving. I was suffocating in the heat. 

Hell, I’ve been suffocating in this façade.  A picture of Sherlock pops into my mind.  The savior of my sanity and the annihilator of same.  If it weren’t for his ambiguous comments and lack of personal boundaries, I wouldn’t be questioning my sexuality in the first fucking place.  Hell, I had no idea why I was there.  I only knew I was NOT leaving without being sorted. 

I was surprised when a skinny boy springs directly in front of me smiling from ear to ear.  He took the jacket from my hands and laid it over the ledge then grabbed my hand and hauled me out to the dance floor.  If this child is 18 I will eat my stupid leather jacket.  He was a bit effeminate and flamboyant in bright orange pants and a lemon-yellow tank top.  I felt like everyone was watching me dance with him.  Like I’m playing at something completely out of my league.  I was trying to move to whatever beat was pounding its way through my body.  He looked at me like he’s just found the cutest little puppy and pressed himself against me.  He looked me dead in the eyes with such a lascivious look while his hands were working the shirt up my body.  I was mesmerized at the tenacity of this child.  My shirt was completely up and over my head.  I raised my arms allowing him to remove it.  I’m actually grateful for that.  I wouldn’t have had the nerve to remove it myself but I notice a few appreciative smiles on the dance floor and I’m also much more ventilated.  My flesh mixed with the acres of the other flesh on the dance floor makes me feel slightly less inhibited.  He looped my thin shirt through a belt loop on my jeans.  When I felt his hands go for my belt buckle, I had to stop him.  I’m not what he is looking for.  He’s not what I am looking for.  I’m not going to pretend to have high standards today.  I am a bit desperate, but someone finished with puberty would be good.  I held his wrists.  I smile and gave him a wink with much more confidence than I actually had.  I think that’s a pretty smooth let down.  He shrugged and by the time he turned around he was with someone else.  I think he’ll get over me. 

 I scrubbed a hand through my hair and figured out I’m on the dance floor by myself.  Fuck.  One word comes to mind…. Retreat!

Woah….wait.  I’m NOT fucking leaving.  I am not fucking leaving!!

I noticed a blackened hallway to my left.  Traffic seems to have a steady flow there and I quickly deduce it must be the bathroom.  Splashing some water on my face and regrouping sounded like a good plan and I headed in that direction.  There was a bathroom alright, but that was not the source of the main traffic.  A heavy, steel door pushed open and in that brief glimpse I could see another world on the other side.  Lighting was dim, ambient.  There were benches along the wall and men in various stages of undress. There was no doubt in my mind what the purpose of that hidden, out-of-the-way room was.  I hang outside of the room leaning against the wall with my shirt off, strung through a belt loop on my hip, trying to look like I belonged there.  Truth be told, I feel like an idiot.  I’m debated on either gathering up my courage and pushing the door open determined to see this to the end, so to speak or turning tail and running to the outside once more.  Still unsure of my next move, the dark door flew open once more and a tall, slender man came out.  He had a cigarette in his mouth and was patting his jean pockets. 

“Hey, you got a light?” the stranger asked me looking me up and down?

“No, sorry.”

“No sweat.  You goin’ in then?”  He points to door.

I steeled myself and then respond, “Yes, yes I am.”  I moved forward.  He opened the door for me.  Yeah, what a gentlemen.  Thanks.   Oh fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<><><><><>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

**Sherlock**

It did not take much detective work to figure out by John’s wardrobe that he had no intention of going out with Lastrade to the pub when he left this evening.  Even though John had changed the password on his laptop once more, again that was quick work to decode and then to find his browser history.  A list of clubs frequented by London’s gay population popped up as well as several business sites from the actual clubs themselves.  It was easy to pinpoint which John would go to considering his apparent objective; first-time gay sex.  Afterall, it was not the dancing that brought him here. 

The club was veritably bulging with activity making the process of finding John more time consuming than I had planned.  He had a decent head-start on me and I hoped I wasn’t too late knowing what happened on these dance floors and, if rumor were true, in the back rooms.  I felt a knot of guilt in my gut for sending him down this path.  I do suppose my idea of a courting ritual might be a bit ambiguous at best.  It is not in John’s nature to compromise me or our friendship so he’s been the good soldier and decided to flush out his now questionable sexual orientation on his own.  Not what I had in mind at all.  Leave it to John to ruin what would have been an excellent plan.

Finally, I notice him, sans jumper, heading toward a long, dark hallway.  My movements quicken through the crowd.  The harder I fight through the bodies, the more I’m tugged within them.  Being hauled around like a sack of potatoes is not my idea of a good time at all.  It takes quite a bit of effort, but I made my way out of the thrawl and bound toward that hallway.  I see him talking to someone and then disappear behind a dubious doorway.  I redouble my efforts.  John’s virtue will not last long inside that room.

I quickly zero in on him as soon as the door is open.  He looks amazing.  I hang back lurking behind him, not wanting to startle.  He’s got this touristy wonder about him the way he is moving through this room, taking in the sites around him like he just got off the plane in some sort of alternate dimension.  His cluelessness is so endearing. 

I then shift concentration, noticing a tall, ginger man to my left notice him.  He had a smirk plastered to his face, an obvious predator.  I moved closer.  John’s back was to me.  John will be pissed that I followed him here, but I also did not want to leave the bait out there for the sharks to eat.  I took in his appearance once more.  His shirt off.  His skin flushed.  He’s hot and sweaty. He’s practically chum to the sharks within the room.  He’s definitely looking for something, I know it isn’t me, but all the same, I can’t leave him here.  Well this is going to shock the hell out of him.  The predator is making his move. I make mine faster and give him a ‘so sorry’ smile. 

I wrap my arms around John’s and snake them around his bare chest, trapping him against me, giving him no room to turn and see who is behind him.  His only visual input are the bodies in various states of undress.  I didn’t know if he’ll just go with it or if fight or flight will kick in so I spoke directly into his ear keeping my voice low, breathy.  I grind into him giving him no room to doubt my intentions.  “Tell me what you want.”

His body stiffened for a moment, obviously having to beat out his instinct to lash out.  I held my breath hoping his own reasons for being here might overpower the soldier’s engrained response.  Finally, he relaxed marginally and grabbed hold of my arm, his head leaned into my touch.  He pushed himself back against me with his hips.  “You.”

I push him up against a nearby wall.  My cock was hard as hell and I thrust against him pushing him into the wall.  “You want my cock in your arse?”

I feel his body acquiesce.  It’s so beautiful.  “Yes.”  He says with a nervousness I’m certain he feels from his toes.  His head lulls back to touch mine. 

“You’ve never had cock?”  I heard myself ask.  His body quickly stiffened a bit at the question.  I thought I had blown my cover.  Finally, he must have chalked the question up to how nervous he must have seemed to a frequenter of this establishment.  I had to ask.  I’m pretty certain that I know, but to be 100% sure would be good too.  I asked because I know he won’t divulge that information to me, Sherlock, but he might confirm this information to a stranger who might fuck him and let him out of his sodding, virginal misery. 

“D…does it matter?”

“Tell me.”  I breathed into his neck.  I kissed his ear.  I brought his arms down to his sides.  I’m confident he’s not going to slam me and run away at this point.  The touch of his flesh wakes up long repressed emotions. 

“No … I never”  he gasped as I plant a kiss to the nape of his neck.  “please”  he begs. 

Not here.  Not this way.  As much as he is begging me to bend him over the bench in front of us and shove into him anonymously, I cannot.  I talk again, directly into his ear.  “Do you want to know my name.”

He sucks in a breath.  His body shivers.  “Um…yea…no.   No, that’s okay.  I mean. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He’s so fucking incredible.  He’s so fucking mine!  I take a moment to think.  I’m not even disguising my voice really but I know he doesn’t know it’s me.   Moment of truth.  “John, let’s go home.”

He bolted from me and flipped himself around and is out of my hold so fast I have no idea how he did it.  The look of hurt, embarrassment and ….disappointment is more than I can bear.  “What the … fuck you, Sherlock!”  He started putting his shirt back on as he hurriedly moved toward the door. 

“John, please.  Wait a moment.” 

His look turns to horror and he rushed past me just about knocking me on my ass.  I’m hot on his heels.  We got out to the hallway when he suddenly turned on me with this look of pissed-off determination.    

 After he finished rambling on about privacy, latent homosexual tendencies and I think my eyes glazed over when something about the human anatomy was mentioned, he finally ran out of steam and blurted “…and my only purpose of visiting this Sodom and Gomorrah re-make was to finally get fucking laid and …and I can’t even do that without your interfering.”  He looked distinctly defeated.  He sighed and turned to walk away. 

I could not let him walk away.   I ran to catch up with him and grabbed his arm.  “John…, wait.”   How do I put this like I’m not a predatory bastard?  I flash him my infamous grin.  I know it won’t work on him, he doesn’t fall for my charms at all.  He sees right through me.  But I give it a go just the same.  I know what I want.  Him.  I know what he wants.  To figure out if the erections he is experiencing when thinking of me really mean that he’s “turned gay” without actually risking our friendship.   

I knew there would be a fair amount of explaining I would have to do.  I suppose I hadn’t really thought too far ahead of stopping him from allowing a perfect stranger to take him to bed, possibly treat him badly.  I may not have the most experience sexually but I have … researched.  The “in” gay crowd is not what you might call, gentle or even mildly understanding.  We’ve all heard mention of unspeakable things that might happen.    “Look, John, I know why you came here.” 

He looked highly skeptical. “Of course you do.  Sherlock Holmes, the sodding mind reader.”

“I don’t read minds, John.  You know that very well.”

“No, you read my laptop and you break through passcodes and you don’t recognize that people have boundaries and deserve privacy.  Fuck off, Sherlock.”

He’s moved away from me quickly, we made it out to the street.  He’s attempting to hail a cab.  He won’t get one in this neighborhood at this time of night.  He walked down the street, his steps to quick, his demeanor to stiff to believe he was anything less than completely pissed off at me.  Nevertheless, I walked with him. 

“I’m sorry, John.” John staggers and then recovers quickly and keeps walking away from me.  For a moment I think I should just let his anger run it’s course.  He might be less volatile once we made it to our flat.  My own impatience did get the better of me and I pressed on.  “Clearly I did not take this possibility into consideration when I began collecting data.  It’s my fault and I apologize.”

He did stop and turned toward me then.  “Data!  On me?”  He scrubbed a hand through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath.

Oh … Not good then?

“Has it ever occurred to you that people are NOT, in fact, data?  Did you ever think that the things you do and the way you manipulate their thoughts and feelings, might have some consequences?”

“Of course.  I thought the consequences were that you would … reciprocate … with me.”

“With you?  You wanted to …”  He huffed and looked away.  “All of this was just a game to you?  Is that it?”

“Game?  I never …”

“I can’t make you stop thinking of people as your experiment subjects.  You take what you want, everyone else be damned.”  Once I attempted to defend myself, he shut down my diatribe with a raised hand.  “Yes, yes, all for the betterment of mankind, I’m sure.”  He shrugged.  “Fine.  I give up.  You win.”  He walked with purpose to the next block, I following just as quickly behind.  Soon after, we were sharing a cab ride to Baker street. 

He sat as far from me as possible, staring out the window. 

“Fuck, I left my leather jacket.”  He rolled his eyes and looked out the window again in apparent acceptance of the ill-fated demise of his favorite coat. 

“You’re embarrassed.”

“What?”  John demanded.

“You’re mad because you’re embarrassed.  It’s understandable.  People don’t inherently find the subject easy to talk about.  I tossed the topic up in the air and it’s landed squarely on your head, I suppose.”

“I just don’t care anymore, Sherlock.  You win”

I was confused.  Does that mean he’s going to quit taking shifts at the surgery and be a proper assistant then?  Does it mean he’s going to stop nagging me and convincing me that I should be ‘nice’ to people?  Is he going to keep my tea cup helpfully supplied while I’m in the busy process of experimenting? “When you say that I win …”

“I mean the game is over.  Bully for you.”  He tossed a few bills over the seat at the driver as we pulled up to 221B. 

My thoughts whirled.  What was he talking about?  I made my way upstairs at a much less hurried pace than John.  My mind a fog of thought.  What I had hinted at over the past several months, what my intentions where, what I had hoped for.  I had hoped for John.  It had taken a while to come to the conclusion that my life without him would be less worth living, even longer to realize that advancing our relationship to one of emotional, psychological and intellectual comfort to that of a physical nature was simply chemistry and biology.  We were already practically mated as it were, a couple.  May as well find physical pleasure and release in the relationship as well.  I had no qualms with the homosexual nature of the relationship but wondered if there were any ‘wiggle’ room in John’s heterosexuality.  Thus the campaign to, apparently, drive the man insane with sexual innuendo.  It had backfired.

Terribly.

I didn’t immediately see him as I entered our shared flat.  I looked into the kitchen.  Maybe he needed some tea to calm his nerves a bit.  Good idea.  He was not there either.  Probably in the bathroom then.  Best to give him time to settle himself.  He would come back when he was ready to talk.  I moved to my bedroom intending to change into my night clothes.  John was in my room.  On my bed.  Naked. 

“What are you doing?”  I stated with a calm I did not feel.

“You intended on being my first then, right?”  John impatiently explained.

Of course I had intended on being his first.  At some point.  “Yes.”

“Well, on you go then.  It’s yours.  I assume you have lube and condoms.  If not, I’ll need to get some out of my pants pocket.”

“John?”  His wording wasn’t right.  What’s mine?  What did I ‘win’? 

“No?  Alright, I have it right here then.”  He sat on the side of the bed and fished for his pants on the floor beside the bed.  “Ah, here we go.”  He held up two small packets, one condom, one packet of surgical lube.  “Hope that’s enough slick, I’m afraid that’s all I brought.  I could get some out of my kit though if you need it.”  He rambled.

I moved closer.  “John, your intention is to have sex with me?”  Right now?  There is no romance or sense of wonderment that I had hoped our first time would be like.  I had thought we might spend time talking, working out what our feelings were, come up with a plan about how things might progress between us.  This was not right.  John was always surprising him, however.  Never one to play the expected hand. 

“Sherlock, don’t play stupid.”  Before I could answer, he stood and divested me of my jacket before manhandling me onto the bed. 

Soon I was shirtless and kissed to within an inch of my life.  My lips swollen with want, my hips grinding into him as much as he grinded his hips into me.  There was something I should say, there was something that needed to be said.  He kissed me some more and all thought escaped my brain.  My trousers and pants were pulled down and away, my cock stroked to full hardness by his warm hand. 

Suddenly he pulled away, grabbed my hand to place the packets within it and turned onto his stomach, pillow under his hips.  “Go on, then.  It’s yours.”

“John, what’s mine?  You keep saying that.”

“I’m not in the mood for games Sherlock and I certainly don’t want to talk about it so just do it and be done with it.”  He huffed not for the first time that night.  “I’m sorry I kissed you but I just … I would rather … nevermind, just get on with it.”

“Pardon my ignorance, John, but this is hardly what I had pictured and I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Angrily, he finally answered me, “My virginity, of course.  That’s what this is all about, right?”  He braced his torso onto his elbows and leaned his forehead onto his steepled fingers, body tense.  “That’s the reward of your experimentations.  That’s why you drove me mad, spied on me, interrupted me at the club…you didn’t want anyone else to have it because you wanted it.  You took my dignity, my privacy, may as well have it all then.  Sherlock doesn’t share his play toys.  Point taken.”

I couldn’t get out of the bed fast enough.  Nonononono.  I grabbed my dressing gown and pulled it around me.  The blanket on the floor was grabbed and I thrust it up and over John’s naked form before moving to the bedroom door.  “When you are ready to stop this self-loathing behavior and talk to me like a civilized adult, come into the sitting room.  I’ll make tea.” 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<><><><><>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**John**

O-kay … I have no idea how that just went so spectacularly wrong.  Or right, depending on your perspective, I suppose.  I thought he wanted … well, I thought he wanted my arse to be honest, but, I’m beginning to think I have it all wrong.  When he said he was thinking I would ‘reciprocate with him’ I had assumed he meant sex.  I assumed I was just another puzzle or a challenge to be had.  All of these months I thought we were best mates and then he sodding flips the tables on me making me mad with wanting him.  I’m beginning to think it wasn’t to simply get into my knickers now though.  Maybe the poor bastard really thinks he did a right job at courting me. 

“Fucking hell.”

I put my clothes back on and headed into the sitting room.  Sherlock was in the chair, legs crossed, sipping tea. 

“Sherlock, this orifice,”  I pointed to my mouth “is not just for telling people what stupid, sodding gits they are.  It is for actual, useful communication as well, you arsehole.” 

“Ah, figured it out properly then, have you?”  as if it was the most obvious conclusion and that I should have made it ages ago. 

“Well how was I supposed to know this was your fucked up way of courting me?  Jeezus H, Sherlock.  If you’d have punched me in the gut it would’ve been more obvious then … then whatever all that was.  You didn’t have to … to trick me into thinking like that.”

He stoically sipped his tea then quirked an eyebrow.  “Like what?”

“Like a … a homosexual.” 

“Don’t be silly.  I did no such thing.”

“Pardon?”  I crossed my arms in front of my chest knowing full well what my body language conveyed.  “I had no intentions of ever shagging you until … until…  You weren’t intending to trick me then?”

“Of course not.  We all have queer tendencies in one form or another.  I simply woke them up for you.”

“Uh huh.  So deep throating the banana?  Walking around in just your pants with an erection?  Your experiment on ‘the coagulation rate of ejaculate in the human male’?  Where did you get the samples for that Sherlock?  You sodding tossed off whenever it suited you to have another sample, that’s what you did.”

“I was in my bedroom.”

“With the door open!”

“It was for the betterment of mankind.  I shouldn’t be bothered with niceties.”

“Niceties?”  It takes me a moment to shake the memory of the moans and the rapid slapping of skin on skin…ugh, that’s not to say that I didn’t think about leaving the flat when he was doing it, but I … didn’t.  “It was for the betterment of your libido.”  I accused.

“You could have provided me with a sample, you know.  If I was bothering you that much.”

I let out a breath and pinched the bridge of my nose.  “Can we just get to the point, please?”

“Ah, yes the point being that I love you and your refusal to admit your feelings for me.”  He set his tea down on the table and pulled his dressing gown around him tighter then finally met my eyes once more.

“I am not refusing!”  I replied sternly.  He can’t just whip accusations at me and expect me to …oh!

“So, you do love me then?”

I put my hands up in a naturally defensive position.  “I didn’t say …”

“Then you don’t?”  Sherlock pushed.

“Sherlock, just stop!  Bloody hell.  Let me get my thoughts together first, shall I?”

“Fine, just don’t bore me with the ‘not wanting to ruin our friendship’ conversation again.  We’ve already been through all that.”

“What?  No, we haven’t.”

He looked affronted.  “Oh, well, you may have been out at the time.” 

I looked at him.  He met my eyes.  We both laughed. 

“This is so absurd!”  I announced as I plopped down onto the sofa.

“Of course it is.”  Sherlock joined me, sitting directly next to me.  “I do, however, have a short list of reasons why it is a good idea to allow our relationship to become physical.  Would you like to hear them?”

I rested my elbow on the armrest and then my head on my hand.  “Please.  Go on.”

“Point 1.  There would be barely a difference in the way we treat each other.  We’re already practically a couple.”

“What?  How so?”

“Really, John?  Do you like Whit-flower cookies?”

“No.”

“No, of course you don’t, yet you buy them every time you go to Tesco because you know I love them.”

“That’s just …”

“When I had that virus last month?  What did you do?”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you like that.  I am a doctor.”

“Right you are, but how did you take my temperature?”

“My hands were cold.  I’d just come in from the outside.”  I defended myself.

“How did you take my temperature?”

“I pushed my lips to your forehead.” 

“Do you take the temperature of all your patients with your lips, John?”

I sighed.  “No, I don’t.”

“And what else …”

“What else?”

“When I had the virus, what else did you do for me?”

“I know, I know.  I made you soup and I cleaned your vomit and yadda yadda yadda.  I get it.  Move on.”

“Point 2.  You wouldn’t have to bother remembering the trite details about the lives of your latest conquest.”

“Hey, Sherlock, they are not ‘conquests’.  They are fine young women, thank you.”

“Yes, yes.  Did Jeanette appreciate your offer to walk her dog?”

“Considering she didn’t have a dog, no.  No, she did not.  I concede point 2 then, moving on.”

“Excellent.  Point 3.  Well, point 3 is simple really.  I put out.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I will regularly and frequently have sex with you, John and I won’t yield it like a weapon like women do.”

“Women yield sex as a weapon?”  I wanted clarification.

“Yes.  No shagging until the bins are taken to the kerb, no snogging because you noticed a large set of breasts, that sort of thing.”

“But you wouldn’t be like that?”

“No.”  Sherlock shook his head to emphasize his point.

“What if I’m in the mood when you’re in the middle of an experiment?”

“Well, I assume we would still respect each other’s work …”

“And if you’re in the throws of your thinking about a case, pacing, brooding and all that?”

His eyes squinted in thought

“Be honest about it.”  I prodded. 

“Alright, alright.  Point 3 is yours.”

I nodded. 

“Point 4—sexual attraction.”

I tilted my head back against the sofa.  “Go on.”

“Well, even if, as you say, I ‘tricked you’, you still were able to reach full arousal, I take it, when met with my aural stimulus?”

“Indeed.”

“And did you ever reach orgasm thinking of me?”

I groaned.  “Yes.”

He smiled and his breath caught in his throat a moment before he continued.  “Excellent.  And have you come to terms with those feelings of lust for me?”

“No need for modesty, then, huh Sherlock?  I hope your ego survives the humiliation.”

“Modesty is boring.  Answer the question.”

“I’m finding that lusting over you is becoming more and more acceptable to me in the last hour or so, I suppose.”

“Excellent.  Majority rules.  Three out of four points are mine.”

“So now that the scores are in, we should just … have a romp then?”

“No, now that we’ve discussed the issues, we should decide to take us to the next level.”  His gaze intensified.  “I don’t want your anal virginity, John.  I want you.” 

He looked so torn, so desperate.  It was as though I was the only key to solving the riddle inside his head.  I don’t know why I did it, but I leaned in quickly, took his face between my palms and kissed him.  It was electric.  I was imploding with want for him.  Maybe it was partly the intensity with which he wanted me, but I simply could not sit still any longer. 

Finally we came apart.  His eyes fluttered before he pulled back and looked at me.  “Of course, I’ll take the snogging too.”  He announced licking plump, well-kissed lips if I do say so myself. 

“I have Marvin Gaye’s greatest hits.”  I announce helpfully. 

He laughed before insinuating himself into my personal space, leaning into me, his hand on the back of my neck as he kissed me once more. 

My libido is helpfully responding to Sherlock.  No question.  I pushed back and soon we were sprawled on the couch, me on top of him, his dressing gown not the cover it was intended.  We grinded against each other, continuing the kisses, moving them down his throat, clavicle, nipples.  Ugh, God! 

“John?”

“Mmm?”  I continue my laguid kisses to his neck, his ear lobe. 

“John?”

“M’busy”

He chuckled and grabbed my face in his hands bringing me back to him.  “We don’t have to do this yet if you need time to adjust.”

“I know.  I want to.”

He smiled.  “The lube and condoms are back on my bed.  We should probably take this into the next room.”

“Oh.”

“Unless …”

“No.  Yes!  Yes, I want to.  Let’s do that.  I pulled myself up and off of Sherlock.  He doesn’t even look the slightest apprehensive or shy about his body.  He leaves the dressing gown to wherever it has lain and stands, taking my hand in his. 

“Sherlock?”  I say and hate the squeak that passes through in my voice.  I clear my throat.  “You know I’ve never actually done this before, right?”

“Yes, John.  I know.  Are you alright?”

“Of course, I’m alright.”  It’s Sherlock, for God’s sake, pull yourself together.  “Just stating the obvious.”

“We don’t have to …”

“I know.  I want you too.  The first time with a new partner is always a bit nerve racking, I suppose.”

 

I wish we would have stayed on the fucking couch!!   The reality of it hit me as soon as we past the threshold of his bedroom, the covers turned down sloppily, a ghost of what we had done earlier.  There were condoms and lube on the bed.  I balked.  “I’m a bit dry.  Gonna get a quick drink of water…real quick.  Be right back.”  Too fucking real. Truth be told, I know I’m a doctor and I know that the human body adjusts to accommodate but the part of me that’s not a doctor…the part that’s just some poor sap looking for ….well, for this, I just …I’m unglued about it, I suppose.  Ugh!

Sherlock grabbed me before I could make it five feet away.  He wrapped his arms around me.  He feels nice, secure.  It feels good to be held by him.  “Hey.  It’s okay.”

I shake my head.  Of course it’s okay.  Don’t patronize me.  He feels too good next to me to give voice to the true snark I am feeling right now, not to mention the desperate need to run.

“John, talk to me.”

“I don’t….know.”

“You’re scared?”

“No….”  I’m not fucking scared.  “Shut up.”

He nods.  “Yes you are.”

“Fuck off.”  My actions do not profess what my words are saying as I clench a needy hand around his bicep. 

“I can understand that. I was too, my first time.”  He’s nibbling my neck.  Isn’t that cheating?  “I promise to be as gentle as I can.”

“Just tell me… it’s going to hurt like crazy isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t hurt like crazy.  It hurts right at first and then it turns into something amazing.  I promise that any orgasm you have ever had prior to this will pale in comparison.”

I laughed and sank into his embrace.  He is breathing into my ear.  God, does that make me melt.

“Every other orgasm you’ve ever had are going to be jealous of the one coming up next.  I promise.”

His kisses leave a tingly trail.  My shirt is off.  We are tentatively moving toward the bed again.  I’m moving more slowly than he is.  I trust him though.  I can do this.  I want to do this.  I am not leaving.

“Leave your pants on.  Just lie down with me.”

“Okay.”  That’s easy.  I can do that.  I feel like such a dumbass.

His naked form is next to me and I’ve still got my tight jeans, my underwear and my socks on.  He’s rubbing my cock through my pants.  I can’t stop my hips from thrusting into his touch.  He’s nibbling my neck, my ear.  My trousers are open.  He’s dipping his fingers inside the waistband of my pants.  He’s smiling.  I look down in horror.   I wore the red, silky briefs, commonly referred to as my ‘getting laid’ briefs.  How humiliating. 

“I love them.” 

“Shut up.” 

He laughed.  I had to as well.   

I gasped as he put a hand inside my pants and took hold of my cock.  My eyes were open, taking him in, his full lips, his ice-blue eyes, pupils dilated, the blush to his cheeks so prominent on the otherwise pale skin.  This is not a game at all.  If I had any doubts otherwise, his desire was, at that point, extremely obvious.  Nobody is that good of an actor.  He kissed me sweetly, tenderly.  He was laid out beside me, on his side, one hand under the nap of my neck, the other quite busy within the depths of my trousers.  The hand behind my head pulled me into him, deep, passionate kisses. 

Slowly, he worked himself down my torso, kissing my neck, my clavicle, laving at my nipples.  My hips buck upward as he pushed his body down mine, rubbing against me as he went.  Hands on my waistbands, breath on my lower belly, he stopped and looked up at me.  Gawd!!  Bloody hell he’s gorgeous … and that look!  Anything he wants is his.  Anything.  His lips turn up into an evil-looking grin before he pulled the briefs down just past the head of my cock and pressed his tongue to the sensitive underside.  Oh my god!  I want him so bad.  He knows it.  His smile tells me that.  He maintains a firm grip around my cock, licking my glans like it’s a fucking lollipop. 

He grabbed the waistband on my jeans and started yanking them down.  I gasped.  “Can we go ahead and get rid of these?”  He’s asking in a sort of tentative voice as though I haven’t been dry humping his hand for the past few minutes. 

“Yes.”  I raised my hips and he quickly divested me of the rest of my clothing.  Skin on skin from head to toe.  It felt surreal.  It felt like I should have been doing it my entire life.  I felt his right hand reach under my balls placing a finger at my opening.  I couldn’t stop the gasp that came out of my mouth. 

“It’s just me. Relax. Breathe.”

I nodded my head.  How do people breathe?  I’ve forgotten.

He brought his hand up to his mouth and gave his fingers a healthy dose of saliva.  “You’ll feel a little pressure.”  I think about all the times I’ve told my patients that same line.  Depending on the outcome of this day I know I will either have to come up with a different line or smile inappropriately every time I say that. 

I hiss as a finger made its way inside me.  It felt foreign, not pain, just not right. 

“Relax for me John. You’re okay.”

I nodded, took a deep breath. 

He was working my ass with one finger, his tongue back on my cock and I love life right now, taking me all in.  I was helplessly oblivious when he removed his finger, coated them with lube and replaced his one finger with two fingers.  I hissed.  “Oh my god!”

“John, relax.  You’re hyperaware of everything I’m doing to your arse.  Concentrate on my mouth on your cock.”  As a demonstration, he took me into that wet heat once more. 

“Fuck.”  I started to relax a bit. 

He started working his fingers in.  After a few moments, my cock was as hard as a rock.  Sherlock released my prick with a wet plop.  “How does it feel?”

Now that I didn’t have his mouth to concentrate on, I took in the fingers deep inside me and ground down a bit.  “G…good.”

“How about this then?” 

“FUCK!”  I was not prepared for that.  I don’t know why I wasn’t prepared.  I am a doctor with full knowledge of the prostate and what its function is but I was not expecting it to feel like that.  My lips are numb.  Oh, ….

“Do you like that?”

Are you fucking kidding…oh sweet mother of all that is fucking….holy shit…the heavens parted and the angels sang.  There may have been a “guhnnng…ahhh” in answer to his question.  I did not know, I just knew that I needed to feel like that more often. 

I rode his hand while he was nailing that mind-melting spot and licking my cock and ….pinching a nipple…damn…how coordinated.  Fuck. 

Soon he was kissing my face and licking and nibbling my lips, my tongue. 

“John, I need to be inside you when I come.  Is that okay?”

Gulp.  “Yes.” 

He brushed the hair away from my face and kissed me before he reached for the condoms and lube “It’d be better if I was behind you.”

“I don’t want to be on all fours.”

“It’s easier on you if we do it that way.”

“Pick another way.”

“Okay.  You don’t have to do it that way.  Turn on your other side.  I’ll come up behind you.”

I slowly moved over to face away from him.  I shuddered involuntarily when he moved up behind me. 

“Just me.  Relax.”

“I know.” I know he was trying to be gentle but making me feel like a blushing virgin was making me crazy.

“This stuff will feel kinda cold but it’ll heat right back up.”

Cold?  No shit!  Ugh, god.  I felt him moving behind me, lining his cock up.  Blunt pressure.  Fuck, that cannot be right.  “Ow…no.”  Pop.  “No, NONONONONONO.  Sherlock it isn’t …..”  I had to get away.  I lurched forward removing him from me.  A firm grasp at my hip stopped me from escaping from his bed. 

He held me tight.  “You alright?“

No!  “I’m fine.”  I could not relax.  I was being pole-axed.  Maybe I’m not as gay as I thought. 

“John, listen to me.  Focus.”   His hand found my softening cock and began stroking slowly.  I heard a distant, soft voice behind me.  “Breathe John.  Right now, breathe.”

I heard him.  I couldn’t move any muscle in my body that wasn’t geared toward flying out of this bed.  He wanted me to relax and breathe?  My heart was beating out of my chest.  

“John, listen to me.  You tensed up somewhere between your cock being in my mouth to my cock being in your arse.  You’re okay now.  I’m not going in until you’re ready.  Do you trust me?”

“Sherlock?”

“Stop thinking.  I know you’re ready to retreat to your bedroom and chalk this up to failure.  Don’t do that.  Answer my question.  Do you trust me?”

I nodded my head. 

“Good.  Now I want you to concentrate on relaxing every muscle in your body and breathing.”

Skeptically, I attempted to relax.  Every muscle set, one by one, I made to release the tension as his hands roamed comfortingly over my body.  He re-situated the pillows and pulled me closer into him.  One hand reached under me, around my side to grasp my prick.  Slowly he stroked my cock while the other hand wandered all over me.  He was so warm against my backside. 

“Just think about how good I feel up against you.  How good your cock feels to be stroked.  Take a deep breath John.  Breathe with me.”

Okay, I can breathe.  I copy him and let my body fall flaccid with my exhale.  Oh that feels better.  I feel my cock filling once again.  Oh yea, that’s better. 

“There you go.  Relax and breathe.  That’s all you have to do right now.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.”  His foot flips my ankle over his and he insinuated his knee under my thigh, my leg was drawn up and spread open.  He pulled me backwards a bit more so that I was practically in his lap.  His breath was steadily warming my neck.  He pinched my nipples, each in turn making me gasp softly, not enough to hurt, just arouse them. 

I catch a glipse of us in the long mirror secured to his door angled just right that I can see us in it from across the room.  I don’t think I’ve ever looked so thoroughly open and debautched.  The look of him … eyes so hooded in pleasure even though I’ve been trying his patience.  The look of us, moving together.  Ah … god, so intense.  So fantastically intense.  Any doubt I might have was drown out by complete and utter desire to have him.  For him to have me. 

“Keep breathing John.  Feel all of it, all together.”  I closed my eyes and felt him moving his hand behind me.  “Push against me this time.  It’ll open you up for me.”  His fingers found my hole once more, gliding in and out of me once again. 

I nodded my head.  Actually it felt warm and pleasant.  I leaned back against him relaxing into his embrace.  I was more on top of him than we were side-by-side. 

“Keep pushing against me.  I’m going to put my cock inside you now.”

Ugh … gawd … I almost shot just there hearing him tell me he was going to put his cock in me.  Holy fuck!

“When you do, I’m going to push forward.  Are you ready for that?”

I took a deep breath.  I nodded my head.  His thick head was right at my opening.  A straggled moan escaped me as the pressure increased. 

“There you go.”  He pushed himself inside me in one long, slow, gentle push.  “I’m inside you, John.”  He grinded his cock inside my ass as if I needed a better demonstration.  “Fucking amazing, John.”  His hands are all over me, holding me to him.  He doesn’t move, not yet. 

I was amazed that it didn’t hurt when he moved forward.  Hmmm…felt really good actually.  My cock was harder than it’s ever been.  I could hammer nails with the monster.  His cock was continually twitching inside me.  It felt nothing short of amazing.  His warmth surrounded me, goes through me.  His voice lulled me into that same warmth.  If felt like someone was playing a sweet, angelic,  three-dimensional song and it was engulfing me, filling every sense—smell, touch, hear, see, taste—god it was all around me. 

“You alright?”

“God yes!”

His hands roamed across my chest.  He took an experimental thrust.  Just a small one. 

“Oh yes.  That feels good, Sherlock.”  I pushed back against him.  “Keep doing that … please.”

He pushed me onto my side and grabbed my hip once more.  I felt his cock slide out minutely and push back into me.

“It’s …so good … please.  Do it.”

He pulled himself almost all the way out and all the way back in again as if he was still testing the waters.  I moaned with delight.  I can hear him smiling behind me as he moaned and shifted hi weight pushing me forward.  I’m not all the way on my stomach but nearly.  He held his weight up with his arms as he fucked me hard with several short and fast jabs.  Sonuvabitch!!  I still felt like I was being pole-axed but now it’s in a good way. 

“Still okay?”

“Yes…yes…so good.”  He reached under me and put a firm grasp around my dick.  He was stroking with purpose.  He’s trying to angle behind me somehow and getting frustrated.  I don’t know what to tell him. 

He stopped stroking.  He stopped fucking.  What?

“John?”  He sounds like he suddenly got nervous.  “I know you don’t want to do doggie-style but I’m trying to get the right angle to hit your prostate while I stroke you and it’s difficult where we’re at right now.”

“Oh.  How ‘bout if I just lay on my stomach?”

“I still wouldn’t be able to work your cock.”

“Sherlock, I won’t last two more seconds if you had your hand on my cock.  Trust me, I’ll come anyway.”

“Alright.  Budge over then.” 

He pushes me forward and straddles my ass.  “Can I put a pillow under your hips?”

“Yes.”  I push up, his cock still inside me, impaling me deeply.  He moaned and quickly placed the pillow.  His dick pops out of my ass as I lurch forward.  Damn! 

“It’s okay.”  His hands caress my ass.  I feel two fingers run from my balls all the way up the crack of my ass.  He separates my cheeks.  He runs the side of his hand up and down the crack.  My ass is propped in the air.  I am completely vulnerable to him. 

I turned around to look over my shoulder when he doesn’t immediately settle back inside me. 

“John?”  Shit he sounds nervous again.  “I’m going to do something else…it’s…well, you’ll like it.”  I had no time to respond when I felt my cheeks being pulled apart and something warm and wet directly on my arsehole. 

“Oh!”  I lurched forward in shock.  He’s got me pinned down to the mattress with his legs.  “Oh my god!!”  Oh, that’s so nice.  Wow!  Jeezus H I am in heaven.  His tongue was busy working my ass.  All I could do was hold on. 

Finally he sat up, shifted forward and thrust two fingers inside me.  “Is that agreeable to you then?”

“Well, fuck.  I’m not pissed about it.” 

He laughed.  He added more lube, placed the blunt tip of his cock at my opening again and pushed forward.  I know what to do now.  It hurt.  It hurts like a sonovabitch but I relaxed and let him in. 

“Yes, nice.  You feel so good, John.”  He pushed all the way inside.  “Is your cock getting enough friction where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m just going to take a few jabs to find what I’m looking for.”  He thrust in once, noted my response and pulled back out.  I felt like a science experiment.  In Pornland but an experiment nonetheless.  “Tell me when I hit it.”

I had the feeling he’ll know.

After a few tries, he finally plowed right into my prostate and I moaned like I’m a sex slave in heat.  I couldn’t help it.  Hey, that’s it right there!  Yea, he already knew.  He was plowing into that mark like he owned it.  His hands fix my hips to the right spot, he spread his legs and started pounding me.  Oh glory, oh joy oh god… "Sherlock, I’m ….oh…”  That familiar warmth that starts low in the belly became more intense than I’ve ever known.  It encased me slowly, methodically, purposefully.  I cannot feel anything but that warmth, that pure and utter bliss.  I’m coming.  I’m coming so hard I don’t think I’ll ever stop.  He waited until I go absolutely limp, thrusts a few more times then pulled out completely.  He worked his own cock over me until I feel a warm wetness cover my ass.  After he came he slid himself easily back inside me making me gasp.  It was then that I realized he did not use the sodding condom. Nothing to be done about it now. He milked his cock a couple more times into my sensitive arse and collapsed on top of me. 

I’m blissed out, completely open and melty.  I could feel his cock twitch inside me, his breath on my neck. 

“Relax, I’m gonna pull out.”

“Mmm.”  Oh, trust me, I’m freaking relaxed.  A little twinge of pain when he pulled out but not bad.  I feel him separating my cheeks and looking at me.

“You didn’t tear.” 

“Not surprised.  You were very careful.”

He plopped down next to me taking me over with him.  We are spooning in his bed basking in the warm afterglow of homosexual sex, the fluids very sticky between us and under us.  I’m deeply, deeply satisfied. 

“Feel alright?  Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay.” 

“You’re quiet.”

“I’m trying to flush out whether or not I should muster the effort to come up from this completely blissed out afterglow to be pissed at you for shagging me without a condom.”

“John.  I’m sorry.  I should have asked.  My clean bill of health is on my dresser.  I was tested last week and I promise I have not engaged in any risky behaviors in years.”  He rubbed by shoulder.  “I apologize.  It’s no excuse but I was caught up in it.  You must know that I would never put you at risk.  Not for anything.”

I sighed.  “I suppose I do.  I guess I’ll continue my blissed-out, perfectly warm, post-coital nap then.”

He whispered in my ear.  “Point 5.  Amazing sex!”

“Obviously.” 

 

 

The End

 


End file.
